


Destiny is Overrated

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (off screen and no one you know), Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmate AU, but the OTP aren't soulmates, just thought i'd warn you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is fifteen when it happens.<br/>First, he's happy. His bed is comfortable, the book he's reading is captivating, and he can't stop smiling. That's his soulmate's fault, of course, and Grantaire is glad that they're happy.<br/>Then there's pain, shredding through him like nothing he's ever known before and a scream tears from his lips as his body folds inwards in an attempt to keep himself in one piece.<br/>That's when he lost his soulmate.</p><p>Ten years later, he meets Enjolras and things are... complicated. They'll make it work, though. You don't need a soulmate to find love, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny is Overrated

Grantaire is fifteen when it happens.

First, he's happy. His bed is comfortable, the book he's reading is captivating, and he can't stop smiling. That's his soulmate's fault, of course, and Grantaire is glad that they're happy - he probably brings them down enough.

He's distracted from the book at the thought of what could be making them so happy. (Are they laughing? What do they sound like when they laugh? Could he make them laugh so joyfully?)

He puts the book down and soaks up the happiness and the relaxation that it brings.

Then there's pain, shredding through him like nothing he's ever known before and a scream tears from his lips as his body folds inwards in an attempt to keep himself in one piece.

It's worse than the time he fell out of a tree and broke his arm; it's worse than when he got hit by that car and ended up in hospital for weeks; it's worse than everything that has ever caused him pain added together and multiplied by a thousand.

He's pretty sure he's still screaming as he blacks out.

-

He comes to in a hospital bed, completely alone, and a heart monitor is beeping steadily beside him. It’s the only noise in the room other than his breathing.

The beeping gets louder and faster as his brain, muddled by the pain killers, struggles to catch up with what’s going on.

Something’s missing; something’s not there.

~~He knows what it is. He won’t admit what it is.~~

As the heart rate monitor continues to rise, it must trigger some kind of alarm, because a nurse comes bursting into the room, another hot on his heels.

Grantaire’s panicked, and he wants to get out of the bed, and he wants to be able to think straight, and he wants what’s missing back.

He struggles to get up, to sit up, and the nurse holds him down, talking quickly in a firm voice, but Grantaire has no idea what he’s saying. His eyes wide, he continues to fight back, and his anger turns to sobbing as he’s restrained and pushed down into the bed and the two nurses look at him with sadness.

“What happened?” he cries. “What happened?”

One of the nurses takes hold of his hands and sits with him as he cries.

“Did I lose them?” he asks eventually when he manages to stop shaking. 

The nurse rubs Grantaire’s hand with his thumb and says, “I’m very sorry.”

He says something else but it’s lost as Grantaire’s tears spring forth again and he buries his face into his pillow. “How could I lose them? How could I-”

His sobs break off into gasps for breath.

They’re gone. His soulmate’s gone.

-

Soulmates are a wonderful thing, while you have them. You’re always aware of them, from the moment you take your first breath till the moment you take your last. You can feel when they’re happy, you know when they’re sad, you feel their pain when they get hurt, and when they die…

When they die, you’re torn apart from them in the most excruciating way possible. They say it’s worse the younger you are, but no one can prove that.

For some people, that link is all they have. Grantaire is – was – one of those people.

Growing up in a broken home, his father abusive, his mother dead, he clung to the idea that there was someone out there that would love him unconditionally and irrevocably. Someone that would go to the ends of the earth for him. Someone that would hold him. Someone that would make him feel worthy.

And now it has been taken away from him. His one wish – gone.

He gets let out of the hospital after almost a week (his dad never once visited) and he heads straight for Éponine’s house.

He feels so empty.

Éponine takes him into her arms and cries with him on her bed, staying with him all night and promised him in fractured whispers that it’s going to be okay.

He nods and clings to her and tries to pretend that he can believe her.

He knows he’ll never find love now.

-

**Ten years later.**

“Grantaire, _please_ ,” Éponine says, and her tone of voice makes Grantaire feel a little guilty at how adamant he is.

“Ép, I’ve got to get this piece done,” he says, and it’s not quite a lie. It’s not exactly the truth, either, though.

“Come on, you might like it. You’re passionate about this too; I don’t understand why you won’t come.” She looks at him disapprovingly and he determinedly continues working on an A3 sheet for his art project. She sighs. “You can stay home today, but please come tomorrow.”

He makes a non-committal noise and she takes that as the best she’s going to get.

After she’s gone, Grantaire lets out a heavy sigh. She’s been trying to get him to join this… _club_ for weeks now, verging on months.

It’s some sort of student-run organisation that helps people who’ve lost their soulmates. Which Grantaire is all for; people who’ve suffered like that need to know that there’s someone still looking out for them. He’s got Éponine, but not everyone does.

That’s not all they do. They also work with people who’ve been abused by their soulmate, people who have left their soulmate of their own choice and now face discrimination, and also people who have more than one soulmate and who face hate and judgement for that.

Technically, Grantaire’s all for it. They seem like well-meaning people who know what they’re doing. Still, he refuses to go along with Éponine.

There are two very good reasons for this:

  1.       He hates talking about losing his soulmate, and he knows that will happen.
  2.       Their ‘leader’ is the most beautiful person that Grantaire has ever seen.



He’s only seen the man a couple of times, despite the fact that they go to the same university. The few times he has seen him changed Grantaire’s world.

The first time he saw him, he had no idea who he was. Grantaire was going into the library just as the leader was leaving and the two had met in the doorway accidentally. Grantaire had blushed bright red and danced awkwardly from side to side as the two of them had tried to work out how to get through the doorway. The other man had just laughed and placed his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders and moved him round so that they could slip past each other. Grantaire had thought about the blond beauty for hours after that.

The second time, Grantaire was struck dumb. The blond-haired, red-coated leader was stood in the centre of the courtyard and he had somehow managed to gather a crowd as he… well, ‘preached’ really was the only word for it. Grantaire hadn’t got close enough to hear what he was saying but he could see the fire in his eyes and the passion in his movements.

The third time, Grantaire understood what it was that the man was talking about. Grantaire watched curiously as he talked animatedly to a girl about getting people help when soulmate relationships turn abusive. Grantaire was intrigued at the least and infatuated at the most.

Then came the time that Éponine started going along to the meetings that they held, she informed Grantaire that his name was Enjolras and tried to convince Grantaire to go along with her.

Grantaire refused. Grantaire still refuses. Every time she asks, without fail, he comes up with an excuse.

He can’t go.

-

Éponine comes sprinting into his flat the next day, and she looks so panicked that he doesn’t protest when she grabs his hand and all but screams at him to follow her.

However, the second they are in the taxi waiting outside, she calms down and collectedly instructs the driver to take them to the Musain.

“You bitch,” Grantaire curses. “How the fuck did I fall for that?”

Éponine smirks and shrugs her shoulder. “You love me too much to refuse me when I’m upset.”

“Ép,” he groans. “Don't make me do this.”

She turns to face him in the car and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, unimpressed.

“You only have to come once, after that it’s your decision.”

He agrees, irritably.

-

She lets him sit at the back, and usually she would sit by Marius but she stays with him instead.

Soon, two people join them, and Éponine introduces them as Joly and Bossuet. They buy Grantaire a drink which Grantaire downs in one in a rash attempt to calm his nerves.

When Enjolras enters, Grantaire sinks a little lower in his chair and mutters, “I hate you, I hate you so much,” to Éponine.

She simply grins. Joly laughs. “Familiar with our leaders, huh?”

Grantaire gaze flickers over to where Enjolras is stood talking with a man a similar height to him with glasses, and another, a few inches shorter, with unruly curly hair.

“Familiar is one word. Hopelessly crushing on Enjolras is another,” Éponine reveals, and Grantaire really might have to kill her.

“Good luck with that,” a woman says as she drops into a chair besides Grantaire and who the fuck is she? “You're not really his type,” she informs him.

“Oh? And what's his type?” Grantaire asks, unable to resist.

“France, mostly,” she answers, before grinning. “Hi, I’m Musichetta.” She nods at Bossuet and Joly. “Bossuet’s my soulmate and Joly’s my boyfriend.”

Grantaire grunts a hello, and Éponine tuts. “What he meant was ‘It’s nice to meet you Musichetta’.”

Musichetta laughs, a loud harsh sound that completely bellies her petite frame and pretty face. Joly and Bossuet look completely enamoured with her.

Grantaire sighs. “Yes, that is what I meant. Sorry.”

She waves off his apology and smiles. Grantaire’s eyes slide back to Enjolras. As he watches, Enjolras starts to laugh at something his short, curly-haired friend says, and Grantaire gets a rush as he remembers the feeling of his soulmate laughing. He smiles, softly, wondering for a moment how Enjolras can laugh so freely after losing his soulmate – and then the weight that has been bearing down on him since he was fifteen reappears, and he feels nothing but sadness.

Éponine clearly notices, because under the table she gives his knee a squeeze.

Less than half an hour later, Grantaire is furious. Because Enjolras never did lose his soulmate.

“What gives you the right?" Grantaire spits. "You're the equivalent of a man talking on sexism, or a white person preaching on racism. You're whole. You are not torn in two.”

“Grantaire-” Éponine says quietly, as though to stop him, but Enjolras lifts a hand to silence her.

“No, he’s right. I have no right.”

“Then why-” Grantaire tries to say.

“Let me finish. I have no first-hand knowledge. But I was there when Combeferre experienced it. I’ve seen my best friend struggle with this. I know how it ruins lives, and I know that people think they’ll never find love when they lose their soulmate,” he talks with perfect clarity, and Grantaire waits out the speech, watching Enjolras’ every move with sharp eyes. “Combeferre writes most of what I preach, I just help, and I'm just the mouthpiece. There are probably others more suited to the job, others who actually know how it feels. But I do my best. I'm sorry if that's not enough for you.”

Grantaire regards him, this rich boy who still has everything, and he wants so desperately to slap him. “If you’re just a mouthpiece, why can’t you fine someone without their soulmate who can relay Combeferre’s words?”

“We don’t know anyone who’s willing to do it, and I’m the best public speaker we’ve got.”

He’s right, of course, and Grantaire knows it.

Still Grantaire says, “Even so. You should not be the face of this issue. Having a minority write your speeches doesn't change the fact that you are a majority. People won’t know that your friend writes these speeches, and you come across as self-congratulatory. Well done to the white, bonded man who gave some of his time to us lowly broken lot.”

“My race has nothing to do with this,” Enjolras snaps.

“You’re a _majority_ ,” Grantaire tells him, emphasising what the issue is here. “While it’s lovely that you are willing to use your privilege in order for our problems to be heard, it doesn’t detract from the fact that you should be taking a backseat. Can Combeferre not speak? Or any number of the people in here? I’m fairly sure I’ve heard them talk.”

Enjolras glares at him – there’s no other word for it – and Grantaire stands his ground.

“What about you?” Enjolras asks him. “What have you done to help yourself and others like you recently?”

Grantaire grits his teeth. “Me?” he asks, and Éponine grabs his arm, trying to stop him. He lightly pushes her away. “I work hard, I get on with my life, I grit my teeth and bear the winces and sighs of pity when people ask me where my soulmate is and I tell them that they’re fucking dead. I spend my days keeping busy so I don’t end up thinking about the torture that I went through when I was fifteen. Mostly I avoid people like you. People who think they can change society with a pretty face and a few quick-witted words. People who think they know everything.”

There’s a long silence following his words, in which Enjolras just watches him. Finally, Enjolras says, “I’m sorry for what you lost, and that you can’t see a better future.” His eyes don’t move from Grantaire.

Grantaire just scoffs and storms out.

-

At first he tells himself that he’s going to stay away, but he quickly realises that that’s harder than he’d imagined. Now that he’s actually met Les Amis, he sees them _everywhere_.

He runs into Joly at the supermarket. Musichetta is in Matalan when Grantaire is there with Éponine. Feuilly randomly joins a night art class that he’s taking at the university. Combeferre’s in the library. Bahorel’s at the barbers shop. Jehan’s at the gym.

It’s awful.

Then he bumps into Enjolras.

Grantaire’s working one of his jobs, a barista in Costa, and it’s such a busy day that he doesn’t recognise Enjolras until he’s standing right in front of him. Grantaire barely even blinks, and he refuses to give any sign of recognition. “Hi, what can I get you?” he asks, using his perfected customer service voice.

Enjolras clearly can tell. He pulls a face and says, “Americano without milk, takeout, please.”

“Sure. Small, medium, or large?” Grantaire asks, scribbling it down on his notepad.

“Large,” Enjolras says.

“Is that everything?” Grantaire asks.

“No,” Enjolras says. “Why are you treating me like we’ve never met?”

Grantaire glares at him. “Will that be all?” he asks.

Enjolras sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

Grantaire quickly passes the order over to the girl working the coffee machine, and runs the numbers through the till. “Two pound forty, please,” Grantaire tells him, eyebrow raised. Enjolras sighs, again, audibly. He whips out his wallet and hands across a fiver, which Grantaire puts into the till and hands him his change saying, “And that’s two pounds sixty change.”

He looks at Enjolras pointedly, until Enjolras moves aside so that Grantaire can serve the next customer, while Enjolras waits for his coffee to be made.

The girl working the coffee machine hands Grantaire the Americano Large and Grantaire slides it across to Enjolras without a word.

“Grantaire-” Enjolras says, but Grantaire interrupts him.

“Have a nice day, Sir.”

Enjolras blinks at him. “Yeah,” he says, after a second. “You too.” Then he turns on his heel and leaves, clearly disappointed. Grantaire really doesn’t know what the man expected.

-

The next time Grantaire sees Enjolras is, if possible, even more awkward and weird. It’s only Grantaire’s first week as a waiter in this restaurant – he shouldn’t have to do this.

When he sees Enjolras come into the restaurant, Grantaire takes a deep breath. He looks around, praying silently that there’s another staff member who can be Enjolras’ waiter – but no. There isn’t. He takes another deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and then walks over, smiling.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?” he asks.

Enjolras visibly does a double take. “How many jobs do you have?”

“Three, not that it’s any of your business. Now, do you have a reservation?” he asks again.

“Um, yes. Under the name Fauchelevent.” He looks incredibly uncomfortable.

Grantaire checks the list to find out where Enjolras’ table is and then leads the way. It’s a booth for two, hidden almost out of view of the rest of the restaurant. Grantaire raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. “Would you like to order a drink, or wait for your… companion to arrive?”

“I’ll wait,” Enjolras says. “She shouldn’t be long.”

Grantaire nods and leaves him to it.

When a beautiful lady walks into the restaurant, Grantaire doesn’t think twice about going over to her. “Do you have a reservation?” he asks, with a big smile and a friendly tone.

“Yes,” she says, smiling too. “The name’s Fauchelevent.”

Grantaire freezes. _This_ is the girl that Enjolras is having dinner with? “Right,” he says, and his voice sounds flat. “Your… friend has already arrived,” he says, awkwardly.

She just smiles and follows him.

Once she’s seated, Grantaire asks, “So, my name’s Grantaire and I’ll be serving you tonight. Can I get you any drinks?”

Enjolras – who looks unbelievably uncomfortable – looks at the woman and says, “Wine?”

“Please,” she says, with a grin. “Something white. I don’t really care what.”

Enjolras laughs, and quickly peruses the wine menu before choosing one with a name that Grantaire probably couldn’t pronounce if he tried.

“Would you like to order food now, or would you like some time to look over the menu?”

“If we could have a moment, that would be great,” the woman says, smiling up at him, clearly not noticing how stiff both Enjolras and Grantaire are.

“Of course,” Grantaire says. “I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.”

As he walks away from their table, he breathes out heavily. He’s not going to survive this. The only logical assumption is that this woman is Enjolras’ soulmate. Grantaire wants to _die_.

When he gets back, the two of them are laughing, Enjolras now completely relaxed. Silently, Grantaire opens the bottle of wine. “Would you like to taste it, first?” he asks no-one in particular.

“Nah,” the woman says. “Just give it to me.”

Grantaire almost smiles. He thinks he might actually like this woman if he got to know her.

Enjolras looks faintly embarrassed. “Cosette,” he says, softly. “This is a posh restaurant.”

She winks at him. Grantaire fills her glass, and then quickly turns to Enjolras and fills his too. He then places the bottle of wine into the ice bucket on the table.

“Are you ready to order?” he asks. God, he wants to die.

Enjolras raises an eye at the woman – at Cosette – and she says, “We thought we’d just take the sharing platter. Try a bit of everything. Get to know each other, you know?”

Determinedly, Grantaire keeps his expression neutral. “Good choice,” he says, because that’s what he’s supposed to say, and he smiles. “Will that be all?”

Enjolras doesn’t seem to want to look at him, and Grantaire’s not proud enough to pretend that it doesn’t hurt.

“Yes, thank you,” Cosette says, and then turns her attention back to Enjolras.

Grantaire spends the whole evening trying not to watch them and failing miserably. They both seem really happy, and Cosette makes Enjolras laugh incredibly easily. Grantaire sort of hates her, however irrational that is.

When it comes time for Enjolras to pay and leave, Grantaire ends up being the one working the till. Despite all of his pleading looks to his fellow staff, not a single person will step in.

Grantaire starts punching numbers into the till, not caring about how unprofessional he’s being.

“Grantaire, she’s not my soulmate.”

Grantaire stills and looks up from the till in shock.

“She’s my sister.” Enjolras looks nervous, for some reason. “My long lost, recently found, twin sister.”

Grantaire says, “Why do you think I care?” because that’s the sort of person that he is.

Enjolras looks down, and then glances back up. “No reason, I guess.” If Grantaire didn’t know any better, he’d say Enjolras sounded sad. Or perhaps not _sad_. Defeated, maybe.

“Ninety three pounds, please.”

Enjolras doesn’t even wince at the price, handing it over in cash like it’s nothing. Grantaire stares at him, holding the money that’s almost a hundred pounds in his hand.

“I don’t understand you,” Grantaire tells Enjolras.

Now, Enjolras looks guilty. “Her step-father insisted.”

“Right,” Grantaire says, tonelessly. He looks over Enjolras’ shoulder to where Cosette – Enjolras’ twin sister – stands gazing out onto the city streets.

“Look, Grantaire-” Enjolras starts.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Grantaire replies, putting the money in the till and printing off Enjolras’ receipt.

“Please come to another meeting,” is what Enjolras says.

“No,” Grantaire says. “Here’s your receipt, Sir, I hope you had a pleasant evening.”

Clearly reluctant, Enjolras replies, “I did, thank you.”

“Good,” Grantaire says.

“Good,” Enjolras echoes.

“Good,” Grantaire says, a second time, this time barely more than a whisper, and his eyes don’t quite meet Enjolras’.

He hears Enjolras take a breath to say something, but clearly he thinks better of it, because when Grantaire looks up he’s walking away.

-

“You have got to be kidding me,” is the first thing that Grantaire thinks of to say when Enjolras walks into Costa the next day.

“Hear me out,” Enjolras says, raising both hands in surrender.

Grantaire leans on the counter and raises an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Have a coffee with me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Grantaire leans away from the counter. Enjolras should be counting his lucky stars that it’s not very busy.

“Just get a coffee with me, and let me apologise properly, please,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire looks over at the clock. “I can take a twenty minute break,” he says.

Enjolras doesn’t smile, but he looks slightly less tired for a second. “Thank you.”

Grantaire calls across to the two people he’s working the shift with to let them know he’s taking his break, and then he grabs a bottle of Diet Pepsi from the fridge. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire rolls his eyes, coming out from behind the counter. “Freeloader,” he mutters.

Enjolras does actually crack a smile then as they sit down at a table nearby, but it only lasts for a moment. “Okay,” he starts. “The thing is, everyone’s mad at me for what I said to you. Hell, _I’m_ mad at me.”

“Oh, Christ,” Grantaire mumbles. “Did we not cover the fact that I was so much worse? I literally told you that your entire operation was bullshit!” He groans. “You said like three sentences, believe me when I say my feelings are _not hurt_.”

“So why won’t you come back?” Enjolras demands.

“Because you don’t want me there!” Grantaire exclaims. He then quickly looks around as he realises how loud they’re being. He lowers his voice. “Look, I appreciate the apology. It’s unnecessary, but it’s appreciated. Even so, I was only there because Éponine tricked me into going.”

“But…” Enjolras says, lamely.

“Just, don’t worry about it,” Grantaire tells him. “I’m busy enough as it is, anyway.”

“Busy doing what?” Enjolras asks, sounding curious.

“Uni, work, babysitting Ép’s little brother and sister,” Grantaire lists off. “Not to mention all the things I do for my own enjoyment. Believe me, Enjy, I’ve got plenty to do besides show up at your little meetings just to get pissed off at the world.”

He can actually see Enjolras fight to not tell him off about the nickname. It’s quite amusing actually. Instead, however, Enjolras says, “How do you fit three jobs into all that?”

Grantaire laughs. “Weekends I’m in here during the day and I’m at the restaurant in the evenings Tuesday through Saturday. I also work at a bookstore in town on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Enjolras asks, “What about your classes?”

“I got it all worked out with the head of the art department. No worries, Enjy, I’m not skipping out on my studies. I take night classes twice a week to make up for the fact that I can’t be there for the Thursday lecture.”

Enjolras blinks. “You do all that?”

Grantaire pulls a face. “I bet that’s not even half of what you do. What do you study?”

“Law,” Enjolras says.

“Huh,” Grantaire says. “I would have put you down as politics. Anyway, clearly I’m right, Mr Lawyer, I know how hard that course is.”

“But you do art, I’d never be able to do that,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire grins. “You don’t need to make me feel good about being an art major; I know it’s not useful. My d-” He cuts off abruptly, remembering that Enjolras isn’t his friend, and he sits back in his chair, hands curling around his unopened drink.

Enjolras looks a little jarred. “So, um,” he says, lamely.

“You’re gonna make a great lawyer,” Grantaire teases.

Enjolras blushes. Actually blushes. Honest to God _blushes_. Grantaire has never seen anything so adorable in his life. Fuck.

All too soon, Grantaire’s twenty minutes are up, and he downs the bottle of Pepsi before saying a quick goodbye. Enjolras follows suit, getting to his feet, and smoothing down his shirt.

As Grantaire turns to walk away, still smiling, Enjolras coughs. “Uh, I know you’re busy, but, uh, consider coming back to the meetings? Please?”

Grantaire takes in the hopeful expression on Enjolras’ face and sighs internally. He can’t say no to that, he just can’t.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, which is not a no.

Enjolras grins. “Thank you,” he says, and then leaves.

Grantaire rolls his eyes.

He does go back to the meetings (he skips one, purely on principal) and then he never stops going.

-

Enjolras is twenty-five when it happens.

He's mid-speech, and he has the rapt attention of everyone in the Musain.

And then he screams.

It’s high and clear and he drops to his knees instantaneously.

Both Combeferre and Courfeyrac skitter backwards in shock as Enjolras continues to scream, shaking as he hits the floor. Grantaire, however, is across the room in seconds. He grabs Enjolras, placing one hand on either side of the man’s face and forces him to look at him, “Enjolras,” he says, his voice strong and clear. “Enjolras, look at me, focus on me, don’t think about anything else, okay?” Enjolras eyes find Grantaire and they’re hazy, like he’s not seeing clearly, but it’s still a sign of response. Grantaire glances away; about to order someone to call 999 but Combeferre’s already on it. Grantaire turns his attention back to Enjolras.

“Are you with me? Can you hear me, Enjolras? I need you to focus on me, focus on my voice, I’ve got you, and everything is going to be alright.”

Enjolras is shaking and tears are pouring freely down his face, but he’s not screaming any more. Enjolras clings to Grantaire like he’s a lifeline, and he manages to whisper, “It hurts, Grantaire,” before he blacks out.

Grantaire stays kneeling on the floor, holding Enjolras’ unconscious body while they wait for the ambulance, and then he insists on going with him. The doctors try to protest, saying that only family relations should come in the ambulance, but Grantaire’s grip on Enjolras’ hand is so strong and his glare is so fierce that they allow it. If only so that they can hurry this up and get Enjolras to the hospital.

Enjolras is still unconscious, and Grantaire counts his blessings. With the amount of pain that he must be in right now, unconsciousness is the best thing for him.

After they get to the hospital, and Enjolras has been taken away from him, Grantaire paces the waiting room, ignoring everyone who tries to get him to sit down and be calm – whether they’re staff or members of the public, he ignores them all.

It doesn’t take long for some of the others to join him. Combeferre immediately pulls him into a hug, and Grantaire, who’s been fairly held together until then, breaks down. A sob tears its way from his throat as he clings to Combeferre. The others immediately make themselves scarce.

“He’s going to be okay,” Combeferre says. “You’ve been through this, I’ve been through it, so many of our friends have, and we’re all okay.”

Grantaire shakes his head, because that’s not why he’s so upset, but Combeferre doesn’t seem to understand.

“He’s not going to die,” Combeferre tells him. “He will live through this.”

Grantaire trembles and manages to reply, “He lost them, Ferre. He lost them.”

Combeferre pulls back, looking at him in confusion. “What?”

Grantaire sinks into a chair, for the first time since arriving and stares at the floor as the tears cover his cheeks. “He lost them. That shouldn’t- He shouldn’t-” he breaks off, gathering himself. “He doesn’t deserve this. If anyone deserves to find their soulmate, it’s him. He’s going to be alone, Ferre.”

Combeferre sits down next to him and takes his hand. “You don’t believe that, R. He’s not going to be alone. He’s got me, and Courfeyrac, and he’s got you.”

At that, Grantaire shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. Of course you and Courf will never abandon him, and obviously I’m going to be following him wherever for the rest of my life, but Ferre what if no one loves him? What if he’s… like me?”

“You love him,” Combeferre points out, his voice soft. “Grantaire, I-”

“Do we have a M. Grantaire, here?” a voice calls out, and Grantaire almost jumps to his feet.

“That’s me! That’s- me.” His eyes are wide and he has to hear that Enjolras is okay. His eyes look to the nurse standing in front of him.

“M. Enjolras was asking after you. You are the one who came in the ambulance with him?” the nurse asks.

Grantaire stumbles over his response, but he nods so he manages to get his answer across.

“You can see him now,” the nurse says.

“Can- Can Combeferre come too? I think Enjolras would like-”

“One visitor at a time, for now,” the nurse interrupts, with a smile. “Your friend can come later.”

Grantaire looks to Combeferre, standing beside him, and Combeferre gives him a warm nod. “He was asking for you,” Combeferre points out, and Grantaire feels himself go a little pale at that.

Combeferre gives him a hug before Grantaire follows the nurse out into the hall. He even manages to give his other friends a small wave as he goes. Inside, his heart is thrumming so fast, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.

When they come to a door, Grantaire takes a deep breath. “Is he-?”

“He’s physically stable. We’ve got him on painkillers, but he is hurting. Also, emotionally, he’s not completely stable. Please try to avoid saying anything that might cause him upset.”

Grantaire almost snorts at that, but all he does is say, “I might not be the right man for that.”

The nurse gives him an off look, but still opens the door to usher him inside. His eyes immediately find Enjolras.

Curled in on himself, Enjolras looks incredibly small and delicate. If it weren’t for his eyes, wide-open, Grantaire would assume that he was sleeping.

Enjolras lifts a shaking hand, in Grantaire’s direction, and Grantaire immediately strides across the room to take it. “Enj,” he whispers.

Enjolras’ eyes flutter a little. “It hurts, R,” he replies, voice a little broken.

“I know,” Grantaire says, soothingly. “I know it does. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

The man drops his gaze to their clasped hands, and Grantaire can see tears forming in his eyes when he replies, “I feel empty.”

Grantaire can’t tear his eyes away from Enjolras’ face, feeling tears prick his own eyes. “You don’t really get used to that,” Grantaire says quietly, and that makes Enjolras’ eyes jump back up to meet his. Grantaire offers him a small smile.

Enjolras shuffles over on the bed and lightly pats the space next to him. Grantaire takes that as an invitation to sit down there, and when Enjolras then curls up into him, he’s a little surprised. Enjolras must feel the way his body goes rigid, because he looks up at him with wide-eyes. Their fingers are still tangled together.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grantaire asks.

A tear slips down Enjolras cheek, but he presses his eyes closed and leans into Grantaire a little more, squeezing his hand. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

He feels it when Enjolras falls asleep, close as they are, and that’s why Grantaire starts to cry. His arm curves around Enjolras’ slight frame, drawing him in. A nurse sticks their head in, but seeing them, they immediately back out. Grantaire’s grateful.

When Enjolras makes a soft sound in his sleep, Grantaire suddenly feels like he’s overstepping. The noise shocks him back to reality – a reality in which Enjolras doesn’t reach out for him; doesn’t curl up next to him; doesn’t fall asleep with him. A reality in which Enjolras doesn’t like him very much.

Carefully, he disentangles himself from Enjolras and hops down off the bed. Unfortunately, Enjolras is a light sleeper.

“R?” Enjolras asks, sleepily. “Where you going?”

Grantaire’s heart clenches and he fights to remember that Enjolras is on all sorts of drugs and over-exhaustion right now. “I’m going to let Combeferre and the others know that you’re okay. Would you like one of them to visit you, now?”

Enjolras stares at him for a long moment, but then shakes his head. He leans his head back down onto the pillow and his eyes fall shut again. Grantaire creeps out the door, shutting it gently behind him.

He heads straight back to the waiting room and falls into Joly and Bossuet’s arms. They hold him tightly and whisper soothing things that he can’t understand into his ear.

Pulling himself together he turns to the group. “He’s okay. He’s very tired; he was sleeping when I left him. I think he’s going to be okay though. He doesn’t want any visitors tonight. I’m sure you can see him tomorrow.” He addresses the whole group, but the last part he directs towards Courfeyrac and Combeferre primarily, because they look the most on edge out of the whole nervous group. They nod in understanding.

They fall back into seats, some of them holding hands, others sitting mostly alone in quiet.

Grantaire stares at the floor anxiously, unable to sleep like some of his friends are. No one even suggests that they leave – only Feuilly, Éponine, and Musichetta, who have work early the next day, go home.

The next morning, a nurse comes to tell them that Enjolras is awake, and that he’s willing to see them. The nurse advises that only a few go, so as not to overwhelm him. They quickly decide that Courfeyrac and Combeferre should go, and after that they can decide how many and who should see him.

Grantaire stays in the waiting room. He doesn’t have work until the evening today, and he’s desperate to know how Enjolras is doing. He has to be okay. He just has to.

It feels like an eternity before Courfeyrac and Combeferre make it back, with the amount of people who come into the hospital, and the amount that leave, but eventually they do. They both look exhausted, utterly drained, but that doesn’t stop Grantaire from immediately asking how Enjolras is doing.

Combeferre looks at him, and he says, “He’s asking for you, again.”

Grantaire blinks. “Why?” he asks.

“Says he wants to talk to you,” Courfeyrac says. “Look, Ferre and I are going home to shower and get Enjolras some of his things – he has to stay in hospital a while – I’d advise you lot go get some rest. R, you should go in there.”

Grantaire nods, feeling a little shocked. The rest of his friends all start getting to their feet and shuffling off, a few giving him pats on the arm, and some asking Combeferre and Courfeyrac questions about how Enjolras is.

With everyone else gone, Grantaire is left with nothing to do but go back down the corridor and into Enjolras’ room.

Today, Enjolras looks pale, but at least he’s no longer curled up, tired and small. “Hey,” Grantaire says, as he closes the door behind him. “You wanted to talk?”

Enjolras smiles. “Yeah. I wanted to apologise.”

“Christ,” Grantaire says. “No, don’t do that. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I was wrong,” Enjolras says. “I had no clue what I was talking about.”

If Enjolras didn’t look so soft and faded, Grantaire would have argued with him about this. As it is, he just shrugs. “We’ll talk about it some other time,” he says, gently. “How are you feeling?”

Enjolras answers, “Hollow. _Quiet_. It’s just- They’re completely gone. I mean, obviously they’re gone, but I didn’t realise how much of what I felt was them. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really,” Grantaire replies. “I lost them when I was fifteen. Feelings were a mystery back then, you know?”

Enjolras smiles, and then winces as he shifts, his body clearly still aching. “Come sit over here.” He pats the space next to him on the mattress, and, well, who is Grantaire to refuse? Carefully, so as not to jostle Enjolras, Grantaire settles in next to him, but over the covers, feeling the surprise running through him as Enjolras immediately leans in to him. Enjolras then stills and says, “This isn’t weird, is it? I just- I feel really alone right now, and contact seems to help, and-”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire reassures him.

“Did you love them?” Enjolras asks, suddenly.

Grantaire thinks about it. “What I remember most, is that every now and then they would be filled with such unbelievable happiness that I’d laugh out loud without being able to stop myself. They were the polar opposite to me. I was sadness, and they were joy.  I’d have liked to have met them, but back with I was fifteen, no. I did not love them.” Enjolras is looking up at him with big, round eyes. Grantaire clears his throat. “What about you? Did you love them?”

Enjolras looks away. “I think I could have. I mean, that’s the whole point of a soulmate, isn’t it? I think I could have loved them, had I met them, but no. I didn’t love them.” He wriggles closer to Grantaire, and Grantaire puts an arm around him to make him feel more comfortable. Enjolras hums his approval.

Grantaire laughs, softly. “How many painkillers are you on right now?”

“So many,” Enjolras says. Then he says, “I thought you were my soulmate at one point.”

Grantaire stiffens in shock. “Come again?”

Enjolras shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t yours, because your soulmate died, but I thought you were mine for a bit. I have no idea what it’s supposed to be like when you find them, so I just… didn’t know. But you made me feel things that I hadn’t felt before, and you made me smile. Not to mention the fact that you knew when I’d been working too long and needed to stop and eat something.” He shrugs again. “I worked out that you’re not. And now I know for sure, since you’re still here. That’s why I wanted to see you last night,” he admits. “I needed to check that you were still alive.”

Grantaire… Grantaire doesn’t know how to deal with this. In the end he just whispers, hoarsely, “I’m still alive.”

“I’m glad,” is Enjolras’ response.

“Me too,” Grantaire replies, somewhat dryly. It makes Enjolras laugh a little, which sets Grantaire at ease.

Enjolras lets out a large yawn and snuggles up under Grantaire’s arm. “Man,” Enjolras says, “these drugs are really making me sleepy.”

“You can sleep if you want,” Grantaire says. “I know how tiring it all is.”

Enjolras just hums in thought. “Will you stay?” he asks, eventually. “This might sound weird, but I think I’m going to be afraid that you’re dead for a few days.”

Grantaire feels his stomach twist at that, and he quickly says, “I’ll stay. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras whispers. He then tries to pull Grantaire down so that he’s lying on the bed, instead of sitting on it. Grantaire stifles a laugh, and then moves to lie down himself.

“Weakling,” he mumbles to Enjolras.

Enjolras just curls around him, one arm going over his stomach, holding him there. His head rests on Grantaire’s arm.

After a while of lying in silence, Enjolras says, “I don’t think I can sleep.”

Grantaire hums a response. Enjolras rolls onto his front and looks down at Grantaire – their faces are inches apart. Grantaire feels his heart kick up a notch, but thankfully his breathing stays even. “Hey,” he says, softly, “everything’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asks, sounding so uncertain.

“Yeah,” Grantaire promises. “You don’t need to worry about being alone, because you’ve got us, Enj. And you don’t need to worry about nobody loving you, because I can promise that someone is going to fall head over heels for you. You’re not alone and you’re not unloved.”

Enjolras looks like he needs every word like he needs to breathe. “Yeah?” he asks, again.

“Yeah,” Grantaire confirms.

“Someone’s gonna fall in love with me, still?”

It’s weird to think that something like that would weigh on Enjolras, of all people, but the sound in his voice when he asks is enough to show that it is. “Yeah, I promise,” Grantaire says. “Someone’s going to be _so_ in love with you.”

Enjolras looks at him like he’s trying to believe him. Or maybe figure something out. Then he nods. “Thank you, Grantaire,” he says. He pauses, still so close to Grantaire, and then his face reaches a resolve, like he’s made up his mind. He opens his mouth. “Grantaire, I-”

The door swings open and Enjolras jerks backwards in surprise. Grantaire’s hand shoots out to grab him and prevent him from falling off the bed, and then they both look towards the doorway where Feuilly, Joly, and Jehan stand, looking a little shell-shocked.

“Um,” Feuilly says, eloquently.

“Did we… interrupt something?” Jehan asks, hesitantly.

Grantaire scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No,” he says. “We were just talking about how much better Enj’s speeches are gonna be now that he actually knows what he’s talking about.”

Joly’s looking at Grantaire with an impassive expression on his face but then, suddenly, he waltzes into the room with a big smile on his face. “It’s good to see you, Enjolras,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

Nobody misses the way Enjolras’ eyes dart to Grantaire before quietly saying, “A lot better, thank you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Feuilly chimes in, following Joly into the room and grabbing a chair to pull up beside the bed.

Self-consciously, Grantaire moves into an upright position on the bed. “Aren’t you meant to be at work?” he asks Feuilly.

“Lunch break,” Feuilly explains. “Of which I only have half an hour left, so…”

“Thank you for coming,” Enjolras says, sounding a lot more like himself, and, wincing only a little, he copies Grantaire by sitting up against the headboard. His hand rests on the bed, in between himself and Grantaire, and his fingers brush against Grantaire’s hand.

Grantaire, understanding what Enjolras needs, quickly laces their fingers together and hopes that the others don’t comment on it. He squeezes Enjolras’ fingers, and feels it when the other man relaxes.

“Our pleasure,” Jehan says, hopping up onto the end of the bed and sitting cross-legged there. He accidentally lands on Enjolras’ feet, who pulls them away instinctively, curling up his legs underneath the covers. Jehan shoots him an apologetic look.

“R, can I have a word? Outside?” Joly asks abruptly.

Grantaire briefly glances at Enjolras, but smiles and nods, getting up off the bed to follow Joly out into the hall. As he closes the door behind him, he sees Feuilly take his place on the bed.

Grantaire pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands and turns to face Joly. “What’s up?”

“Be careful,” Joly says, with worried eyes. Grantaire sighs. “No- _Listen_ to me, Grantaire. Be careful. You and Enjolras don’t have a history of being close and I’m worried about you. I know what it’ll be like if he breaks your heart, R. I don’t want you to feel unloved again.”

“Joly,” Grantaire starts, “it’s not like that anymore. I know you love me. I know Bossuet loves me. I know that I have friends that care about me. Yes, I love Enjolras. Yes, it’s killing me to see him in pain. No, I’m not getting my hopes up about anything. I can help him right now. He needs me, so I’m going to be there for him. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Joly doesn’t look any less concerned. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Grantaire tells him, seriously.

“Okay,” Joly says, hesitantly. “But you’ll tell me the second things look to be getting bad?”

“Yes, of course,” Grantaire reassures him. He reaches out and takes hold of Joly’s hand. “I promise things will be fine.”

When they head back inside, Enjolras’ face lights up, and Grantaire immediately feels a little broken inside. Nevertheless, he smiles at Enjolras and goes to sit on a chair at the side of the room. Enjolras frowns at him, and gestures to the bed. Grantaire shakes his head, with a small smile.

Feuilly offers, “I can move, if you guys want?”

Enjolras opens his mouth, clearly to say yes, but Grantaire speaks just a little quicker. “No, that’s okay.”

Enjolras looks nothing short of devastated, and Feuilly looks at Grantaire with a clear non-verbal _‘what the hell are you doing? You’re going to make the man cry’_ on his face. Grantaire just shakes his head.

Enjolras slouches a little further into his bed, trying to hide the wince that he makes as his body protests the movement.

Grantaire sighs. “Fine,” he says, getting to his feet. Feuilly hops out the way, and Grantaire takes his place, carefully putting an arm around Enjolras and helping the man to get comfortable. “Happy?”

Enjolras shakes his head, but the way he’s snuggling into Grantaire says otherwise. Still, he mumbles a bitter, “If you don’t want to be here, just say so.”

Grantaire pulls a face that, thankfully, Enjolras can’t see. “I’m okay here,” he says.

“Good,” Enjolras says. He yawns, widely, then. “God, these drugs make me tired.”

Grantaire and Jehan both laugh at the same time, and when Jehan says, “Man I’d love to see you smoke weed,” Grantaire realises that they were laughing at the same thing.

Enjolras pouts a little, and Grantaire just laughs more. “That’s adorable,” he teases, index finger lifting to poke Enjolras’ jutting lower lip. Enjolras beams up at him. Grantaire thinks his heart might break.

“I need to get back to work,” Feuilly says, then, breaking the moment. Enjolras and Grantaire look over at him.

“Thanks for coming, Feuilly,” Enjolras says. Feuilly smiles and leans over to press a kiss to Enjolras’ forehead. Enjolras smiles tiredly up at him.

“I should go too,” Joly says, and Jehan nods in agreement.

“Okay,” Enjolras says. “Will you let Cosette and Éponine know I’d like to see them if they have the time.”

“Of course,” Jehan promises him before the three of them leave, and Enjolras and Grantaire are once more alone.

“I think I can sleep now,” Enjolras tells Grantaire.

“That’s good,” Grantaire says. He helps him into a horizontal position, helping him get as comfortable as he can, and then curls up beside him. Enjolras’ breath evens out rapidly, and Grantaire smiles sadly, tears filling his eyes.

Five hours later, Grantaire has to leave to go to work, and he carefully lifts himself from the bed, desperately trying not to disturb Enjolras, and he slips out of the hospital room. His shift at work feels like a lifetime, and afterwards, as he lies in his own bed, he feels terribly alone, so used to Enjolras’ comforting weight beside him.

-

Grantaire wakes to five text messages, all telling him to get his arse to the hospital. Panicked and scared that something is very wrong, he all but runs to the nearest bus station to get to the hospital. Once there, he’s greeted by three of his friends, looking quite mad at him.

“Where the hell have you been?” Courfeyrac exclaims.

“At… home?” Grantaire says, confused.

“Enjolras has been going out of his mind! Get back in there!” Courfeyrac yells.

Feeling guilty, Grantaire does as he’s told.

Enjolras is pale and his eyes are red-rimmed when Grantaire gets into the room. He bursts into tears when he sees Grantaire, and Grantaire doesn’t know what to do, so he simply sits on the bed and holds Enjolras as he cries.

“I thought- I thought-” Enjolras sobs.

“I know,” Grantaire says, quietly. “I know.” Enjolras lets out a hiccoughing sound and buries his face in Grantaire’s jumper. “I’m okay,” he tries to reassure Enjolras. “I’m alive and well, and I’m here, Enj. I’m here.”

“I woke up and you were gone, and it was so _stupid_ , but I couldn’t stop _thinking_ that _maybe_ you’d- Maybe you’d- Oh, God, I can’t even say it. I can’t. Grantaire, you can’t-”

“I’m not going to die yet, Enjolras. Look, I’m alright. We’re not soulmates and I’m _not going to die_.”

Enjolras’ loud sobs settle down into quiet hiccoughs and sniffles after a while, and Grantaire gently rocks him back and forth, in a soothing motion. “I wish we were,” Enjolras says, quieter than a whisper, and if he didn’t have Grantaire’s entire attention in that moment, he wouldn’t have heard. “I wish we were soulmates,” Enjolras then says, louder. “I wish we’d always been, and we never lost them, because it’s you and me, and then everything would be okay.”

Grantaire presses a kiss to the crown of Enjolras’ head. “Everything _is_ okay,” he promises Enjolras. “You have me,” he says. “Enjolras, you have me.”

And it’s not an ‘I love you’. It’s not ‘You’re my soulmate’. It’s not even ‘We’re going to be great together.’ It’s simply Grantaire, sitting on the rickety hospital bed with Enjolras, holding him in his arms, and promising him that everything, in this moment, is okay. And it’s enough for them.

It’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. any and all mistakes are my own, though I did my best to spot and fix them. let me know what you liked/any advice etc etc :)
> 
> I have a writing blog: theskyis-forever come say hi and leave a prompt :)
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


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